


Man's Best Friend

by Sk8er_Chica



Category: S.W.A.T. (TV 2017)
Genre: Dogs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Team Feels, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2019-10-07 07:33:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17361707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sk8er_Chica/pseuds/Sk8er_Chica
Summary: Even the toughest SWAT officers need someone to get them through the night. For Luca, his someone happens to have four legs, a tail, and a wet nose. A series of one-shots about Luca and Duke.





	1. Shaky Town

Chris, walking behind HQ to her car, spots Luca sitting on Black Betty’s back bumper with his phone tucked between his shoulder and his ear.

“Hey. Yeah, yeah, I know it’s late. I just, uh, wanted to check in to make sure you and Kelly got through the quake okay.”

Chris stops in her tracks, not wanting to intrude.

“It missed you guys? Man, that’s great to hear. Don’t worry, I’m okay. So is Duke. She did? Tell Kelly I’m proud of her, all right? ‘Bye.”

He hangs up. Duke puts his paws on Luca’s knees. Luca wraps his arms around his best friend’s neck, his hair blending in with the darker tips of Duke’s ears.

“You had me scared, buddy,” he says in a low voice, sounding like he had last year when he’d had a nasty head cold. “I thought I was gonna lose you.”

Chris waits a moment before she calls, “’Night, Luca.”

Luca hastily clears his throat. “See ya, Chris.”

He mutters a few colorful words under his breath as he struggles to open a bottle of water with stiff, swollen fingers. Chris holds out her hand for it and unscrews the cap. Luca pours the water into a portable dish he keeps in his backpack for Duke. The dog noisily laps it up, his wagging tail hitting Luca’s calf.

“You okay?” asks Chris. “And don’t gimme that third-generation SWAT macho crap you gave Hondo.”

Luca flexes his hands again. “Yeah, I’ll just take a buncha aspirin when I get home. Uh, listen, Chris, can you see if one of your buddies from K-9 can take Duke here? Just for tonight?”

“I’ll do you one better." Chris smiles. "I still have an old crate in my living room; he can sleep there.”

“Thanks, Chris. Street said there’s a lotta broken glass at my place and I don’t want Duke’s paws t' get cut up. And I gotta see what other kinda damage there is, so I c'n call the super.” Luca’s words are starting to melt into each other like ice cream, which Chris knows is a sign he’s truly exhausted.

“I don’t think you better do any of that tonight,” she advises, extending her palm. “Keys.”

Duke immediately starts nosing through the pockets of Luca’s hoodie.

“Duke, whatta ya doin’?” asks Luca.

The dog turns to face Chris, proudly holding his master’s lanyard between his teeth.

“Good boy!” Chris praises.

“Nope!” Luca snaps his fingers. “Duke! Give Daddy his keys back.”

“Duke, drop it!” Chris has her hand ready for the lanyard.

The Labrador tilts his head, confused by the dueling commands.

“Duke!” Luca whistles. “Keys!”

The dog happily drops the now-soggy lanyard on Luca’s knee. Duke shoves his head under Luca’s elbow again, sniffing at his middle.

“I don’t have any treats, buddy,” Luca almost sounds apologetic. “We better stop by my place and pick up some kibble. Duke’s gotta be starvin’.”

A particularly aggressive nuzzle on the dog’s part causes Luca’s stomach to growl audibly. Chris’s eyebrows go up a fraction of an inch.

“Sounds like he’s not the only one,” she teases, poking him in the arm.

Luca winces; everything from his neck down is sore, even though he took a shower in the hottest water he could stand.

“Why don’t you both stay with me tonight?” Chris suggests. “We can get Deac or Hondo to help us clean up tomorrow.”

Luca nods, gratitude evident in his blue eyes.

“C’mon,” she says, using one hand to pull Luca into a standing position. “It’s getting late and I’m starving too.”

Luca whistles once for Duke, who obediently trots after them. Luca opens the back door of his car and Duke jumps into the seat.

“You want the window down, don’tcha, buddy?” Luca asks, his voice slightly higher than normal. “You love it when your ears blow around, yeah, you do.”

Chris can’t help but chuckle a little at seeing how her big, tough teammate is such a softie when it comes to his dog. She gets in her truck with a sigh, her overworked body  craving carbs and protein. She’s in no mood to even consider cooking, but, fortunately, there are plenty of fast food restaurants near her apartment. After fighting for a spot in the complex parking lot, she meets Luca at her front door to let him in.

“I’m walking over to In ‘N Out,” Chris tells him. “Think fast about what you want me to grab.”

“A double-double animal style, large fries, plain cheeseburger, and, uh…vanilla—no, make that chocolate shake,” Luca rattles off, his tongue eagerly flicking over his lips a couple of times.

Chris holds out her hand expectantly.  

“What?” asks Luca.

“ _I’m_ not the one whose face is all over the news. You’re buying,” she says, then adds his favorite justification for anything, “SWAT code.”

Luca fumbles through his many pockets for his wallet, finally producing his debit card. He kicks off his sneakers just inside the front door, already making himself at home.

“I’ll be right back,” Chris tells him. “And don’t think this gets you out of buying drinks next time we all go out.”

It’s not a bad night to walk, clear skies and the temperature much cooler than earlier in the day. Almost like the City of Angels knows its residents can only take so much at once. The line at In 'N Out has spilled onto the sidewalk, a sign that the city hasn't restored power to nearby neighborhoods. Or just a consequence of it being Friday night in Los Angeles. Chris makes polite chitchat with the people around her in line, her stomach growling as loudly as Luca's.

When Chris returns home with the food, she sees Luca half-slumped over, half-sprawled out on her couch, Duke at his feet.

“Rise and shine!” she calls.

Luca gives a startled grunt, then says, “Wasn’t asleep.”

He eagerly gestures at the milkshake cup. Chris gives it to him before stepping into the kitchen to hunt up some paper plates.

“Ow!” Luca suddenly moans around the straw.

Chris isn’t surprised his head hurts the way he’s sucking down the shake. She rolls her eyes, setting the takeout bag on the coffee table. Luca fishes for the plain burger, then starts tearing it into smaller pieces that he carefully arranges on a paper plate. He leans over to deposit the plate on the floor, fighting the urge to cry out at the pain shooting through his back. Duke sits and wags his tail.

“Okay, Duke, chow time, buddy,” says Luca a little breathlessly.

Only then does the dog descend upon the food.

“Aw, look, he has your table manners,” Chris snarks. She lightly pokes his calf with her foot. “Either get up or move over.”

Luca obligingly pulls his left leg back towards his body. As she sits, Chris tears open a ketchup packet with her teeth, squirting it into her carton of fries.

“What happened today, that was either the bravest thing I’ve ever seen you do…or the craziest,” she says.

“I’m surprised Pops isn’t blowing my phone up.” Luca isn’t sure how his dad will react when he sees the footage that’s all over the news.

“You coulda ended up as road pizza. What happened to ‘there’s no room for cowboys on SWAT’?” Her words come out harsher than she intended.

“Hondo was in trouble!” Luca’s on the defensive. “Was I just supposed to leave him alone up there with that maniac? We watch each other’s backs, period, no matter what could happen to us in the end. SWAT code.”

“Hey, I--"

The argument is cut short by Luca’s phone ringing. He and Chris are both too tired and sore to get up from the couch, so she settles for tuning out the conversation.

“Hey, Pops. I guess you, uh, saw the news tonight.” Luca greets.

“ _Yeah. And your mom’s a nervous wreck_ ,” Carl gruffly tells his son.

Luca hears the electric mixer firing up in the background. “How many batches deep is she?”

Ever since Luca can remember, his mom’s coping mechanism for Dad’s late nights has been to start cooking or baking. The more anxious she got, the more food appeared. During a particularly tense standoff, his mom had made a loaf of bread, an apple pie, a slab of roast beef, and a chocolate layer cake; she hadn't let Luca touch any of it until Dad was home safe.

“Well, she started with a tub of chocolate chip cookie dough and now she’s working on either snickerdoodles or those French things she bakes at Christmas.”

Luca’s mouth waters at the thought of his mom’s French butter cookies.

“ _Is that Dominique?_ ” calls a slightly breathless female voice.

Luca can picture his mom now, standing in the kitchen with flour all down the front of her shirt and biting her bottom lip. He hears his dad pass the phone to her.

“ _Dominique! You had me worried half to death!"_

"I'm okay, Mommy, I promise."

Chris grins, though she’s trying not to eavesdrop. There’s just something undeniably cute about a grown man referring to his mother as “Mommy.”

“Really. I'm just a li'l sore. Nothin' a good night's sleep won't fix."

In that case, Chris doesn't think he'll be feeling better anytime soon. She knows from being his roommate that Luca is possibly one of the biggest insomniacs on the planet. UCLA should do a study on him to find out how somebody can sleep so little and still manage to function at the level that Luca does.

"Uh-huh. Yeah, yeah, I can swing by tomorrow and pick up the cookies." Luca rolls his eyes, but he's grinning. "I promise I'll share. Okay, love you too, Mommy. 'Bye."

Luca hangs up the phone, grabs his burger, and takes such a huge bite it's a wonder he doesn't choke. Chris takes Luca's debit card out of her pocket and puts it on the coffee table between them. Duke licks his chops, already done with his own burger.

"Was it good, buddy?" asks Luca.

Duke wags his tail, as if in reply. Luca finishes eating in record time, even for him. Duke comes over to the couch so Luca can rub his ears. Luca winces, his body even stiffer. Chris sets down her cheeseburger and pads off to the bathroom. She pulls the right bottle out of the medicine cabinet on her first try, knowing Luca will see asking as weakness but accept help if it's offered.

"Hey, Luca," she says, coming back into the living room. "Thought you might want a couple of these." She rattles the bottle of Tylenol PM. 

(What he _really_ needs is a prescription muscle relaxer, but Luca had stubbornly refused to let the EMTs so much as look at him).

"Wouldn't hurt, I guess." Luca painfully attempts a shrug.

Chris pours two pills into his palm, which Luca washes down with the last of his milkshake. She picks up the remote and turns on the TV, more for background noise than caring what's on. After a while, she notices Luca has been oddly quiet and glances at her teammate. The medicine, combined with a full stomach, seems to have put him to sleep.

Chris turns off the TV and stretches. She doubts Luca will get cold in his hoodie, but there's a blanket on the back of the couch just in case. She strokes Duke a few times, then stands up. The last thing she sees before going to bed herself is Luca on the couch, dead to the world, Duke lying within arm's reach to guard his slumbering master.

"Good night, boys," Chris says quietly. 


	2. School

The second Luca unlocked his front door, Duke was waiting on the other side. That was pretty routine by now. The way Duke pressed himself close to Luca's legs, almost tripping him, wasn't. Duke kept trying to lick Luca's fingertips, then all but shoved his head under Luca's hand.

Luca slowly took one of the dog's soft ears between his thumb and forefinger. Duke panted happily. Luca leaned his back against the nearest wall, absolutely drained from holding back his emotions all day. (Well, other than the rage that had slipped out at the jail and the annoyance he'd thrown at Street). "Time heals all wounds," that was a crock if he'd ever heard one. He'd like to see anybody heal from stepping around the bodies of dead and wounded teenagers in a school hallway.

Luca normally would've stayed behind after work to go a full 10 or 12 rounds with the heavy bag, but he didn't think he had it in him today. As much as he might have liked, he couldn't keep his feelings bottled up forever. That was how Luca ended up sliding down the wall to sit on the floor, bawling like a baby.

Duke placed himself in between his master's drawn-up legs. Luca groped for Duke's collar and buried his face in the Labrador's fur, his hair blending in with the darker patches on Duke's back. Duke whined softly. He twisted his head, attempting to lap away the tears.

Luca hoped Street wouldn't be home anytime soon. He'd be embarrassed if anybody from the team saw him like this. The Luca they knew was quick with a joke, a fearless, third-generation-SWAT bad-ass. Not the kind of guy who would use a dog's ears as substitute Kleenex. Duke didn't seem to mind, however; he just leaned his warm weight further into Luca's touch, providing comfort the only way he knew.

At some point, Luca wound up flat on his back with Duke becoming almost like a weighted blanket. He cried until his eyes were swollen and his chest ached from sobbing. He rubbed Duke's soft fur, trying to get his breathing back under control.

Luca's phone started to ring from one of his pockets. He cursed under his breath as he fumbled for it. When he retrieved the phone, he saw Hondo's name on the screen. Luca braced himself for the possibility of Hondo telling him the team was needed on another mission.

"Yeah, boss?" Luca hoped Hondo wouldn't notice how thick his voice sounded.

"Hey, man," greeted his team leader. Hondo didn't ask how Luca was holding up; he knew today's events had dredged up painful memories for everyone who'd responded to the River Hill High shooting. "I was just callin' to let you know I talked to Hicks. He's gonna bring in Mumford's team to cover for us tomorrow, so we'd all be free to go talk to Dr. Wendy."

"Hondo, I don't..." Luca paused and swallowed hard. "I don't need a shrink."

"It's all good," Hondo assured him. "You know Wendy; she's not gonna force you to talk to her. If you just wanna raid her candy dish and take a nap on her couch, she'll be cool with it."

Though Hondo couldn't see him, Luca puffed out his chest before saying with his usual bravado, "Yeah, well, what if I don't wanna come all the way over there and see Wendy?"

"You do whatever you gotta do, man," said Hondo. "Free personal day, courtesy of Hicks."

"Cool. Thanks for lettin' me know."

"No problem, Luca. Try and get some rest tonight, okay, man?" 

"Okay." Luca doubted he'd be doing much sleeping, but at least he wouldn't have to worry about being sharp for work in the morning. 

"I'll see ya around," said Hondo.

"Yeah. Later."

Luca gently dislodged Duke from his chest as he heard the front door open. Street, motorcycle helmet in hand, gave his roommate a confused look.

"What're you doing on the floor, Luca?" he asked.

"Meditating. You got a problem with that?" Luca challenged, angling his face in a way he hoped would hide the tear stains on his cheeks.

"No." Street shrugged. "But since when do you meditate?"

"Since today!" said Luca, raising up to his elbows.

"Okay, uh...I can come back later." Street didn't like feeling pushed out of his own house, but avoidance was sometimes best when Luca was in one of his moods. Hand on the doorknob, he added, "Oh, if anybody knocks, it's probably the pizza guy. I ordered some while I was out clearing my head."

Luca scowled. "You were just gonna come home and, what, scarf down a whole pizza in front of me?"

(If he was being honest with himself, Luca wasn't even hungry). Today had been all kinds of screwed-up and he needed to take it out on someone.

"No, why would I do that?" Street sounded taken aback. "I was gonna give you some--"

"You expectin' a medal for that?" Luca stood to his full height.

"No? I was just saying..."

Luca sighed. "I didn't mean that." He ran a hand through his blond hair, making it stick up more than it normally did. "I meant...thanks, kid."

"Yeah, no problem. Look, I'll leave you alone if you really want me to."

"I dunno if...if I oughta be alone right now," said Luca, distractedly brushing Duke's fur off his hoodie. "Don't gimme that look, man."

"What look?" Street asked.

"That look like you're about to speed-dial Wendy. I'm--I'm not gonna  _do_ anything. I just...I need to get outta my own head for a while, man." 

The older man all but collapsed onto the couch. Street joined him, maintaining his distance in case Luca soured again, and picked up the remote.

"Wanna watch the Lakers?" 

Luca shook his head. "Nah. They're gonna keep showin' clips of the 11:00 news."

That would mean footage from today, as well as rehashing the 2013 school shooting SWAT hadn't thwarted until it was already too late.  

"I didn't think about that," said Street with a somewhat guilty expression, scratching his ear.

Duke climbed onto the couch cushion between them. He plopped down and huffed a sigh, resting his head on Luca's lap.

"Good boy, Duke," murmured Luca.

Duke wagged his tail, accidentally whipping Street in the side. 

"Easy, buddy, easy," Luca said to the dog. He turned to his roommate. "Sorry, man."

"Does he always sit up here with you?" asked Street.

"Nah, he usually just says hi when I get home and then he's cool with doin' his own thing. But Chris says dogs can sense when you've had a bad day."

"Today definitely qualifies," said Street, scratching Duke's back.

Luca noticed the dog's eyes had drifted toward the front door. 

"Hey, Street, I'll be back in a while," said Luca, standing up. "Duke hasn't been out since this morning."

"I'll text you when the pizza gets here," Street nodded. "Watch out for the gang-bangers."

"You mean those 12-year-olds?" Luca snorted. " _They_ need to watch out for  _us,_ right, Duke?"

The dog barked once, as if in agreement.

"All right, let's go, buddy," said Luca, clipping the leash to Duke's collar.

They normally went at a leisurely pace on their evening walks, but Duke practically bolted down the sidewalk. He could tell Luca was tensed up about something and running seemed to help his master feel better. Luca tried to hold Duke back a little, not wanting the older dog to stress his joints too much. Duke kept going full-steam ahead, so Luca picked up speed, too. The day's events drifted to the back of his mind as he focused on his surroundings, putting one foot in front of the other, and not breathing too slow or too fast. 

Duke didn't slow down until they had almost reached the end of their usual route, his pink tongue lolling out of his mouth. Luca rested his hands on his hips, wishing he'd thought to grab a bottle of water before leaving the house. His hoodie was soaked through with sweat; there was a nice burning sensation in his legs that signaled a good workout. The knot that had been churning in his stomach all day had finally loosened, replaced by the dull gnawing of hunger.

"Thanks, buddy, I needed that," Luca panted, rubbing the top of the dog's head.

He checked his phone. Street had texted him the pizza emoji. Luca grinned, wiping sweat off his forehead.

"Let's go home, Duke. I'll let you have some of my pepperoni."

Duke wagged his tail eagerly at the last word. A nighttime run  _and_ pepperoni? He had to be the luckiest dog in Los Angeles.


	3. Cash Flow

As soon as they're inside the house, Luca sheds his tie and unbuttons his uniform shirt. 

"You know, a striptease isn't gonna make me feel any better," says Chris, her voice hitching when she sees Duke's leash on the doorknob. 

Luca untucks his white T-shirt and teases, "You like older guys now, huh?" To nobody in particular, he adds, "I'm gonna change these pants real quick."

"Not in the living room." Street says.

Luca rolls his eyes, snorts a laugh, and walks down the hall to his room. Street looks at his teammate, who has silent tears streaming down her face.

"Hey, Chris. Is it, uh--would it be okay to give you a hug?" 

She gives the tiniest of nods.

"Okay, c'mere."

He puts his arms over her shoulders, letting her decide how close she wants to be. Chris leans in until her forehead is against Street's chest. When he feels tears on his shirt, he rubs soothing circles on her back.

"I'm here, Chris. Just let it out."

Their quiet moment is cut short by a dramatic " _aaaahhhhh_ " of relief from the hallway. Luca, now barefoot and wearing a pair of old board shorts, walks toward them.

"That feels better. Hey, you guys hungry? 'Cause I'm starv..." He trails to a halt when he sees Chris sobbing in his roommate's arms. "Hey, girl, are you all right?"

Street thinks it should be obvious she isn't. For God's sake, they all just left her former partner's funeral. 

Luca tries another approach. "You want some iced tea?" 

Street raises an eyebrow incredulously.

"It's what my mom does when somebody gets upset," Luca explains, his ears turning red.

Before either of them can respond, Luca's in the kitchen. Chris and Street hear ice dumping from the machine into a glass. Duke wakes up from his nap on the couch to chase some stray cubes across the linoleum.

"Champ used to love eating ice," Chris sniffles.

"Luca, maybe you should..." Street tips his head toward the fenced-in backyard, praying he gets the hint.

"Should what?" asks Luca, oblivious as always, reappearing with a paper towel and the promised glass of iced tea.

Chris takes the former to dab at her streaming eyes.

"Sit down, Chris," Luca invites. " _Mi casa_ is, uh, what's the rest of it?"

" _Mi casa es su casa,"_ Chris mumbles tiredly, plopping down on the couch.

"Seriously, Luca, how do you spend your whole life in L.A. and never pick up any Spanish?" asks Street.

"I know the important stuff," Luca argues. He starts counting off on his fingers. "Tequila, _cerveza, señorita,_ tacos, burritos, uh, 'where's the bathroom.'" 

Chris smiles, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes.

"Hey, Korean is  _way_ harder to learn," Luca says in a mock defensive tone, putting the glass of tea on the coffee table.

"Maybe I should bust out the picture of you that Tan Photoshopped a teddy bear onto," says Street. "That always cheers you up, right, Chris?"

"Yeah, it does. Wait,  _what_ teddy bear photo?"

Street scrolls through his phone. "Y'know, from when you were living on the couch at HQ?"

"Listen," Chris starts, "I know you guys are trying to make me laugh and I appreciate that, okay? I really do. I just don't feel like pretending to be happy right now."

"You just lost your partner; we know you're hurtin'," says Luca, resting a big, comforting hand on her shoulder.

"And that's only the half of it," Street says under his breath.

"What else is there?" asks Luca. "I mean, are you havin' problems with this whole Sister Wives thing--"

"It's  _not_ a Sister Wives thing!" snaps Chris. "It's--" She gives a half-snarl of total frustration. "It's none of your business. Just forget it and leave me alone, okay?"

Chris buries her face in her hands, tears flow from between her fingers. Duke ambles into the living room, chomping on the last ice cube. He notices Chris and cautiously approaches her. Luca tenses a little, unsure of how she'll react to another dog trying to cozy up to her so soon. Duke gently nudges Chris with his wet nose. When she doesn't respond, he tries again. It doesn't work. Duke moves to sit in front of Chris; Luca has to rescue her iced tea from being knocked over by the dog's wagging tail. 

Duke whines softly. He does his best to lay his muzzle on Chris's leg. After a long moment, Chris reaches down with one hand to rub the scruff of the Labrador's neck.

"Duke knows you're hurtin', too," Luca says. "Don't you, boy?"

"Dogs always know," Chris's normally strong voice is barely above a whimper, which breaks the guys' hearts.

"We gotta do somethin'," Luca goes on. "Somethin' LAPD always does when one of our own goes down. Street, can you get us some beers?"

"Dude, it's 11:30 in the morning," says Street.

Luca shrugs. "I'm not drivin'."

Street admits, "You got something there."

"I don't want one," Chris says, blowing her nose.

"Okay, just two." When Street returns, Luca carefully wraps Chris's free hand around the iced tea glass before raising his own bottle. He speaks slowly, deliberately looking for the right words. "Champion may have had four paws, but he was still a great officer. He protected Chris, no matter what. My, uh, my mom always said all dogs go to heaven and I know that's where you are, Champ. Chris will never forget you. And me and Street are gonna protect her just like you did. 'Cause she's a part of our pack...and we--we love her. Rest easy, buddy."

Street has to swallow a lump in his own throat before saying, "To Champ."

"Uh," Chris cleared her throat. "Actually, can we, um, say, 'Good boy' instead?"

"Anything you want, Chris," Luca nods.

Two beer bottles and one LAPD pint glass clink together. In unison, three officers say, "Good boy."


End file.
